


The Last Words I Will Say To You

by mynameispiaivy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Becky is Yugo the car, Bickering, Boys Kissing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Frottage, Happy Ending, Harry is Nick, Heavy Petting, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Jealousy, Liam is Thom, Louis is Norah, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Niall is Dev, Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist AU, Shawn is Lothario, Zayn is Caroline, its their exes, not between Harry and Louis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 01:10:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18435917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameispiaivy/pseuds/mynameispiaivy
Summary: Harry is still hung up with his ex, Tony. Louis is obsessed with the mixed CDs Tony keeps getting from his ex. Zayn is Louis BFF who likes to drink and get drunk. Liam and Niall is Harry's bandmates, their band is called The Jerkoffs. They all love the band, Where's Fluffy? except Tony, who doesn't know them. Louis has no idea Harry is Tony's ex, Harry doesn't know Louis is in love with his mixed CDs. What started as an imperfect night, turned perfect in the end, where somebody got to meet his soulmate, not to mention getting the biggest orgasm in his life.





	The Last Words I Will Say To You

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I cannot put into words how insanely excited and how absolutely terrified I am of writing this fic. I've always wondered why I haven't seen a Larry fic based on Nick and Norah's infinite Playlist movie. I so love this film a whole damn lot, that's why I decided on writing the fic myself, which is Eek! There's a lot of places in LA that I've mentioned in the story, many are fabricated places, some I use Google for reference. This is purely a work of fiction, and if there are any inaccuracies, I do apologize. Feel free to call me out, I really don't mind criticisms. 
> 
> It's going to be a wip, so bear with me if I tend not to update for weeks. Hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> ****  
> thanks to reb, sea, ri for being my unofficial betas, my gc girls for being my foes to bros to hoes, and to my own personal boo bear..see you soon, sweets!
> 
> say hi to me @missrefridgefreetorator on tumblr..promise, i don't bite (for now, teehee)

*Ring  
*Ring  
*Ring

 

“Hey, this is Tony. Leave a message after the beep.”

“Hey Tony, it’s Harry. How are you?” 

He walks towards the window and flicks the lever to open it. A cool breeze touches his skin, tousling the ringlets of hair off his face. There’s a small bird flutters from the crepe myrtle tree in front of their lawn, jumping from one branch to the other until it finally flies off. 

“It’s about three in the afternoon, I think you're probably still at school. I stayed home today. I took a personal day.” He decides to close the window, the afternoon wind chilling his exposed skin. He’s wearing a worn-out t-shirt that he got from Gemma two years ago, holes and rips in every square inch. It is comfortable though. It’s not as if somebody will be making an appearance in his bedroom right now and snog him to death. Tony is probably daydreaming of that right now, right inside his 900 square feet classroom, with his pretty head resting on top of his left hand. He is probably stupidly smiling right now, possibly gazing outside and counting the minutes when he can finally jump in his car and go to Harry’s house. Harry audibly sighs. Maybe, not. 

“I wanted to finish up some creative projects...and stuff that I've been working on around here. Nothing to do with you or anything.” His eyes flicker to the various collages he made of them. Their first date. The late night trips to In and Out after his gig. A pic with Tony’s little devil of a dog, Chewie, who always takes a nip of his boot whenever he visits his dorm. Tony modelling the jean jacket he bought for his 19th birthday. A stolen shot of his boyfriend after they made love at the backseat of his car. Their limbs cramped up in the small space because Tony insisted they do it under the stars, as if his Yugo, his 1985, 825 kilograms, yellow (okay, right now, it’s probably close to beige to off-white in color) of a car has an actual sunroof. Well, there is a visible hole in the roof of his car, but that won’t permit any light from the moon, as far as he is concerned. And a picture of himself holding a Les Paul while being kissed senseless, after he opened his gift two Christmases ago from Tony.

“So I'm sorry, real sorry I missed you. I was hoping to get you on the phone.” His leans his head to the wall, turning his face towards his bedroom door. He feels the unevenness of the glued-up paper on his cheek, the surface grimy from dirty finger marks and doodles made throughout the years. He tries to straighten out the few places where his artwork has curled up. Maybe, he should super glue the edges to make it seamless once more. Yes, after this phone call, he should drop by Best Buy to get some glues and stuff. Maybe print more pictures that he has saved in his laptop.

“Haven't talked to you in a while...and I just kind of wanted to speak to you at some point.” 

Harry pushes himself off the wall and sits at the edge of his bed. He moves his phone to his right hand, shaking off the numbness off his left hand as he tries to think of the right words to say. “You know, I think last time we spoke...we both kind of said some really nasty things that neither of us meant.” He exhaled a short puff of air out of his mouth before saying, “You know, just, like...when you broke up with me, you know...and everything, on my birthday.” 

Harry’s heart twisted and sunk with nerves, his breath coming in short puffs as he tries to gain control. He closes his eyes and tries to remember why he made the call. “Also, that mixed CD that I left on your doorstep...was the last one that I'll be making for you. More or less.” 

He waited for the worry and anxiety to ebb away, finding the final words he will say to his ex-boyfriend. “Anyway, give me a call. I'm doing very well.” Harry forces a smile from his lips. “I hope you're great. Have a great weekend, and do something fun, you know. Just get out there.” 

He finally lets his back hit the bed, his head bouncing a couple of times from the impact. A few thoughts start running through his head, but he can only say a few last words and then he’s done. With his heart slowly regaining normalcy, he tries his best to keep his voice casual. “Call me, though, when you get a chance. All right. Bye.” Then he taps the pound key.

 

**Message has been deleted.

 

“Fuck.”

 

**To re-record your message, press one.

 

\--------

 

_Well I--I, wanna be your lover._  
_wanna be your man._  
_I want you to understand.._

 

Louis hums the song while he opens up his locker. He fixes his earphones from his ears as he takes a couple of books out from his backpack. The sight in front of him is unsettling. Papers, folders, books and… he squints a bit, a lone sock dangling from his Geometry book, shoved haphazardly in one of the dividers. He pulls the sock quickly when he hears a clashing sound, directing his eyes from the mess inside his locker to the floor. He sees two CDs and their beat-up cover lying beside his checkered Vans. _Shit._ Nervously, he scans the corridors before picking up the items and inserting them between his books and folders. Closing the door to his locker, Louis breathes a sigh of relief. He’ll deal with the clutter later. He just had to make sure no one sees what’s inside. As soon as he turns around, a body came crashing to his side.

“Louuuiiiisss. It's Friday, pumpkin.”

Zayn has been his friend for almost the entirety of his life. The light of his life. The bane of his existence. The wind beneath his wings. The stain that Louis accidentally discovered on a shirt that he ordered online, on a shady website for almost two thousand dollars but hadn’t worn, before seeing the said item worn by his best friend on his Instagram at a party, with the said stain at the exact same place. Yes. That best friend, Zayn Javadd Malik.

“I'm sorry. Do you mind? I'm in my zone,” Louis says, as he tries to ignore and walks past his bff. 

“Oh, you're in your zone.” Zayn pulls one of his earphones out of his ear and whispers, “I’m so…”

“What?”

“What?”

“What? What? What?” Louis starts gently slapping Zayn’s arm, and his menace of a friend starts punching him in random places in his body which Louis counters with small jabs to the stomach and groin. 

“What, is that all you got, Tomlinson?”

“Oh, really? You want something harder, bitch?”

Just as he’s about to do a roundhouse, a presence suddenly appears in his periphery. This person is like a fly that even if you try to swat it, it keeps on buzzing in your ear like a complete pest. _Buzz. Buzz. Buzz._ Louis, having his right leg already raised, ready to strike Zayn, overcompensates and loses his balance, falling smack to the floor in front of this annoying bug. 

“Hello, loser. Hello, Zayn.”

Tony-- Anthony Romano Mancini. _The Arm_ to his teammates, and T to the popular kids in school. He’s Tony to most of the population of Loyola High School, but to Louis, he is _The Pest._ Tony is the star quarterback of the Cubs at Loyola High School. And he is the star of Louis’ worst nightmare. 

“Hi, T.” says Louis’ traitor of a friend, who high fives roach face instead of giving Louis a hand as he scrambles to get up. 

“Hey, Tony.” 

“Yeah. So Zayn, I want you to see this.” Tony pulls a small manila envelope from his messenger bag and shows them a CD pocket with intricate artwork drawn on the cover. Louis gasped. _Oh my god, another mixtape._ “Harry made a mixtape again. Urgh, I don’t know why he keeps on making me these. This is his eighth, and I’m afraid there’ll be more.” He flings the pocket to the nearest trash bin with a soft thump. Louis’ heart starts beating fast, like he is a contestant in a quiz bee, and the host has asked him to spell out a difficult word. And by golly, he knew the right fucking answer. M-I-N-E.

“Have you heard? Who’s Fluffy? is playing at the Bellows. I love that band,” Tony says excitedly as he pulls out his iPhone.

“It’s _Where’s Fluffy?_ ” Louis mumbles.

“Yeah, whatever,” Tony cuts him without giving him a glance. “I’m bringing this guy who keeps on dropping me DM’s on my IG. He’s so funny.” He shows Zayn his phone and clicks the app, boasting this new guy’s profile to him. In a moment of distraction, Louis inches his way towards the trash bin and pockets the discarded CD. Looking at the little details drawn on the cover, Louis smiles as he moves his eyes from one figure to another. On the corner, he sees a doodle of a boy with an outstretched hand towards a moving figure. The hand seemed to be moving back and forth, but the figure had its body already turned, like it’s walking away. Beside it are the words-- _come back._

Louis clutches the CD close to his chest, sneaks a glance to his “friends” before hastily putting it inside his coat jacket. He needs to listen to this later, right after whatever they have planned tonight. Zayn softly bumps his hip, startling him.

“Lou, what are you doin’?” he whispers. 

Louis chances a look at his friend’s face. The left side of his lip was tugged upwards in a sinister smirk on his godlike face. Damn it, he was caught red-handed. Well, actually he was caught CD-handed. 

His face moves a little too slowly, as if he were taking in the surroundings more than anyone else. He contorts his lips into an awkward, toothy smile, his cheeks and ears burning up with the impending denial. “Ehrm, nuthin’.”

“Is he about to fart?” Tony wrinkles his nose as he drew his head backwards. He motions towards Zayn, trying to catch his attention back to him. Typical. “So, Zayn. Are you going?”

“Yeah, me and Louis will be there.”

“Alright, Z.” He fistbumps only Zayn, then gives Louis a look of revulsion before walking away. “See you later.”

Almost robotically, Louis raises his hand to flip off Tony’s back. “Why do you always humor him, Z?”

“He’s not that bad, Lou.” Zayn almost burst out laughing as his eyes follow Tony’s retreating figure. “We grew up with him.” He turns to Louis, bottom lip out in a transitory pout. ”C’mon, pumpkin. Don’t let him ruin your night. We about to see Fluffy.”

Louis raises his eyebrows and skip-hugs his friend. “Yup. We gonna see Fluffy tonight, baby!”

“Fluffy!”

“Fluffy, Fluffy, Fluffy!”

 

\--------

 

“Yo, H!”

Tiny, gyrating, persistent rings get him out of his stupor. Whoever it is doesn’t care, not one bit, of the state he is in. _Ring. Ring. Ring RRrrriiiiiinnnnngggggg._ Someone wants his attention pretty badly and will not, in any godly way, release their fucking thumb on the bell until he opens his goddamn front door. Harry is ready to lollop to the door and fling it wide open, ready to shout obscenities to this individual.

“Yo, Harry. Get dressed, now!” Liam and Niall push him out of the way, running up the stairs to his bedroom. 

“Hey, you can’t go up there?” Harry closes the door gently before hurrying after his friends. He needs to stop them from entering his inner sanctum. They can’t see what he has done to his room, particularly the wall beside his bed. The Tony Wall. 

He almost trips as he rushes up the stairs, grabbing Niall’s arm as he was about to open the door. Harry’s body lurches, grips the door knob tightly before twisting to look at his friend behind him. He places his body between Niall and Liam, who has just about caught up to them. 

“What the fuck, man? Move away from the door, asshole!” Niall shouts.

Faster than a striking cobra, Liam rockets forwards, pushing Harry aside. Harry loses his hold on the knob and gives way to his sanctuary.

“C’mon, Harry,” Niall sighs in an exasperated tone, as his eyes loomed at the sight of his room. “Enough of this, man. It’s been a month.” He starts opening up his drawers, pulling one item of clothing then another, making a pile of discarded clothes at the bottom of his bed. Niall then grabs a band shirt and a button down, sniffs it, then throws it on his bed. Harry was about to tidy up the mess when another item hits his bed, a pair of blue corduroy pants that he wasn’t even sure he’s worn for the past couple of years. “H, get dressed, yo!” 

“Wherever you guys wanna go, I’m not going,” Harry mumbles.

“What do you mean, you're not going?” Liam, who was rummaging through his desk, picks up a CD then takes a deep breath. “You don’t even know where we are going.”

“I don't wanna go. I'm taking a mental-health day.”

Liam sits on his bed, lying on top of the clothes Niall laid out for him. “We have a gig tonight, Harry. This is a big night for us.” 

“Liam, get off the bed, man. We gotta spruce up pretty boy here.” Niall yanks the clothes from underneath Liam’s body, then shoves it toward Harry. “Please put on some clothes, babe. And...” He takes a quick breath and wrinkles his nose. “Okay, probs take a quick shower too. Don’t want you stinking up the van.”

“Fuck you, I don’t smell.” Harry quickly scents his pits and alright, it may have been three days since he took a proper bath. He does smell...odd. “Okay, fine. I’ll be right back. Please, just please don’t fucking touch anything.”

He grabs a towel hanging by the arm of his chair, picks a clean pair of boxer briefs from the clothing pile. Eventually. Harry reluctantly walks inside the bathroom, strips down, stepping slowly into the tub, turning the water on high and letting it beat over his head. Closing his eyes to the water as the heat soaks into his skin, Harry leans against the cool tiles as his mind goes in shreds. Images starts appearing like photographs, reliving every happy moment he and Tony have shared for the last couple of years. What the fuck happened? He shakes his head, trying to get the swirling images out of his mind. This has got to stop. He can’t do this to himself anymore. But he misses him. He misses being with Tony. His loneliness comes in waves, eating his defenses one by one. Harry racks his brain everyday. Is there something he should have done or said differently? Or should he just call it a day ‘cause he’s done all that he could to get him back? Fuck it. Just one night. He’s got to stop this madness. He will eventually get what he wants. Eventually.

In ten minutes, Harry is already putting on his brown Chelsea boots, ready to walk out of his room when Liam exclaims, “Oh, by the way. We got a new name. The Jerkoffs.”

“The what?”

“The Jerkoffs. Me and Niall were talking about it on our way here.” Liam opens his bedroom door but not before checking himself out in the full body mirror hanging on the wall. “Niall wanted The Banging Banshees, but like dude, that would mean we bang banshees, and I said no. That’s fucking scary. So we played the thumb war and I won. So that’s our name. The Jerkoffs. It’ll stay like that for tonight’s gig, alrighty?” 

All three of them start going down the stairs when Harry remembers to get back to his room and grab his phone, keys, trucker jacket and the latest CD he made for Tony. He swipes the screen of his phone and quickly checks for messages. Nothing. Harry tries to forget the sadness slowly creeping under his skin. Just one night. For the love of god, just give him one night. He’ll surely get this done and over with for just one night. Maybe he’d finally have some closure. Or maybe not. 

As soon as Liam is out the front door, Niall is heard screaming from the van. “Motherfucking _Where’s Fluffy?_ is playing at the Bellows tonight! C’mon, Harry, get your stuff, we gotta go now!”

“I’m taking my car. You idiots go ahead.”

“We’re the idiots? Harry, you sure you’re going to drive that thing to the city? Dude, I love you, but that thing ain’t gonna get you prime dick in LA,” Niall says as he turns on the engine.

“Fuck you, don’t say that to Becky.” Harry languidly rubs the hood of his yellowish hued car. “And besides, what do you know about being gay?”

“I’m bi, asshole. I get me some cock from time to time. What the fuck does that got to do with little ol’ Becky here? You won’t even make it out of Downey driving that thing. C’mon, get in the van, Harry.” Niall honks the horn twice, making the neighbor's dog bark.

“No, I’m going to take Becky. I won’t be your wingman tonight.”

“Dude, we don’t need your sorry ass messing with our game. Just fucking hurry up, we gotta catch _Fluffy_ after the show, yo!”

Liam turns the volume of the radio up, then leans over to talk to Harry. “Have to be in Lexington by five o’clock, man. C’mon, we gotta check the synth and speakers real quick before our set.” Liam spring back to his seat and buckles his seatbelt.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll start warming her up. You go ahead, I’ll catch up with you guys.” Harry waves them off as he walks towards his car.

Harry turns the ignition on and.. there’s complete silence. “Fuck Becky. C’mon baby. Don’t do this to daddy. C’mon baby.” He turns the keys again and gently releases the break. “C’mon Becks, c’mon babe.” _Poot-poot-pproooooottt-tut-tut-tut._ “Here we go, baby. That’s it.” He gives a triumphant smack to the roof of his car as he slowly pulls out of his driveway. This is it, he muses. Something will happen. He can feel it. This is going to be some night.

 

\--------

 

9:20 PM  
Pehrspace, Filipinotown, LA

 

It’s a full minute before he realizes he’s taking a few steps towards the middle of the crowd. He is staring. The music entrances him so. Well, he muses, the guy playing the bass entrances him. No one will know, he’s sure no one will notice. He’s a ninja, you see. He wouldn’t trade this sort of anonymity for anything. Him standing smack center, with the lights dimmed, loud music playing in his ears, the spotlight shining on the object of his affection of the night. He can stare all he wants. Fuck it, he can leisurely look at this boy all night if he wants to. The people around him will give him the right cover. They are all just shadows and faces tonight. All of them will just look the same to anybody. Especially to the boy. He won’t see him. Louis can look at this boy as long as he like. 

“Oh my god, you dirty little slut.”

Louis feels his whole body stiffen. He can’t will his lips to move. Everything slows and wobbles as he shakily lifts a hand to his face to fix his fringe. He searches his mind for something reasonable to say. His brain tries to formulate thoughts other than to register that he was fucking caught red-handed. He looks at his toes before glancing back up to catch his friend’s eye. “Wha...What did I do?”

“You’re practically blowing him with your eyes!” Zayn shouts in his ear. 

“I am not. You can’t do anything with just your eyes, Z.” Louis tries to make a quick comeback at his friend but instead hears the crowd chanting. _More. More. More._

“We are The Jerkoffs! Please have your pets neutered and spayed. Have a good night everyone.” 

The loud screams give him the brief distraction from his nosy friend. His eyes rest back on the stage which seems to be… empty. The show is over. Zayn made him miss guitar boy. _Shit._ And then, this is where he starts to think he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time. With the loud screams comes the pushing. The pushing turns to shoving. Shoving turns to his being thrown to the side of the stage. Louis’s eyes fling wide. He can't see which way he is headed. There is a big possibility he will bump into a wall or crash into a person. He’s gonna trip and lose his balance. His hands start to desperately grab at anything he can put his hands on. A hand yanks him by the lapels of his coat, his body crashing to a familiar chest. 

“Louis, where the hell are you going?”

“I...”

“Oh shit, act cool. He’s coming”

“Who’s coming?”

And there he is. Right in front of them. Guitar boy.

“Hey, you okay?”

They were green. His eyes are green. _Wow._ His eyes are the kind of green that gets noticed even when you can't see them because his eyes are like emeralds. Green that distracts you and everything around you. Happy, noticeable green that sparkles when the light hits his face at the right angle. _Stop staring, idiot._

“More.”

“More?” Guitar boy says, as he shakes his hair out of his face. Tiny ringlets of brown hair bounce off his shoulders. There is suddenly a want in his gut, like he needs to touch them. He wants to check if they are as soft as he think they are. There is a slight frown from the boy’s face. His mouth is pursed but is slightly open and loose. Louis notices that his eyes are wandering, like he’s looking for something, for someone. And then he fixes his eyes on something behind Louis’ head. The furrows in between his eyebrows deepen. He blinks, refocuses, then says quickly, “Thanks for coming to the show. Stay safe.” 

Louis watches him go to the bar to a group of guys. A blonde boy, holding two bottles of beer and a beefy guy, who he knew was the lead singer of the band, stand beside him, shirtless. He grabs one of the beer bottle off his friend’s hand and takes a swig. Shirtless boy laughs then hip checks another boy beside him, a tall boy wearing a headband and a really tight tank top. 

“He seems creepy.” Zayn nods.

“Z, we don’t know him.”

“Whatever. We’re here to get drunk and find _Fluffy._ ” Zayn starts digging into his coat pockets for his wallet. “I’ve got $20 on me. How much do you have, Lou?” 

Louis grabs his wallet from his friend’s hands and flips through its contents. “Please don’t get pissed drunk, Zaynie.” He gives Zayn his card. 

“Why don’t you cut the cord, mom.” 

“Z, we already did shots at home. C’mon, just get a soda or something. We still have to get an Uber later. Don’t want you puking in somebody’s car.”

“Killjoy.” Zayn prances away from him towards the bar. There are a few girls and boys who take notice of his friend. The thing is, Zayn is beautiful. He has a chiseled face, and the way he has his hair tied in a bun makes the curves of his face more prominent. And then there’s his bright, coffee brown eyes, which are framed by long, thick, gorgeous lashes. One would be helpless not look at them sometimes. They hold your attention for as long as he wants. He has well sculpted lips that glistens with the cherry red chapstick he always rubs furiously on his poor lips for as long as Louis can remember. Zayn would always say, “You never know when a need to make out arises, Lou.” He is wearing a tattered white shirt underneath his leather jacket, black deconstructed William Rast pants they bought at Macy’s two seasons ago. It hugs his thin frame at the right spots, making his ass more perky than usual. Zayn stands up tall and straight. One can easily mistake him for a model sometimes. His long limbs are straight but not stiff, and he holds his head high as he shouts his orders at the bartender. Zayn can have anybody he wants. But tonight, they have each other. 

“Hey Mark, get me two Jamesons,” Zayn says to the man with a well-coiffed hair swiftly manning the bar. He has short dark locks that dance closer to brown than black, an eyebrow ring that makes him look more sinister than his boyish, innocent face. There are many tattoos adorning his lean, slightly muscled arms. But standing out is the flag of the Philippines on the volar aspect of his left forearm. There are rumors about Mark, of how he moved to California at the age of 16, was adopted by his lesbian aunt from his abusive father, worked as a part time soft porn actor by the age of 18, slept his way through Glendale to Alvarado Street to own his own, full functioning bar at 22. Mark, the local Don Juan of Temple Street, is now in his late twenties. He seems to have found marital bliss with his wife, Barbara, who stands beside him behind the bar, shouting indecencies with drunks as they make lewd remarks at her.

“Oii, you think I wouldn’t smash this glass on your face, fucktard?” 

Mark checks on his wife, the way that a lioness looks at her cubs. He knows she can handle it, her small frame an actual conundrum. A few years ago, she worked as a warden in Mule Creek Prison. By the age of fifteen, she had perfected karate, jiu jitsu and taekwondo, was a two time winner in HeMAn by twenty, worked and served in the correctional facility at twenty two, met Mark one drunken night in his own bar, while she was challenging some college boys to a game of darts. Obviously she won, and Tony, being one of the oblivious people that night, bet on the poor dumb jocks and lost a couple of hundred. Tonight, she had her red hair in a tight, high bun, her black leather slip-on dress reaching just below the curve of her ass, white hightop Converse shoes worn over yellow socks that peek just barely on her calves. It seems that what she’s wearing is what’s wreaking havoc in the marginally sober clientele of the bar tonight. Louis thinks, she wants this, likes the provocation that her appearance will bring. Mark shakes his head at her, a look of foolish adoration in his face. This happens exactly at the same time as he hears Zayn shouting at the end of the bar, repeats what he said a while ago, earning him a bored look.

“Oh yeah, you got your ID with you?” Mark raises his eyebrow, with a look that would make you drop your panties, or boxers for that matter. Zayn momentarily stops then purses his lips. Okay, so this is a stand-off then, two insanely attractive people doing some sort of power play game. Zayn licks his lips, and leans on to the bar and says with a smirk on his face. 

“I’m with Lou, babe.”

“Oh yeah. You think that’ll work with me, pretty boy?”

Jesus. Louis steps in, props his torso on top of the bar and crowds Zayn. He needs to put a stop to this pathetic effort of semi-flirting with a happily married man. “Mark, it’s okay. Zayn and I can just have water.”

“Hey, Lou.” Mark gives him a fist bump. “Nah, imma get you your drinks. I’m just messing with your boy.” He then grabs two glasses below the bar, pours liquid amber into the vessels. “But take it easy, yeah? Don’t want his Pakistani ass sprawled on the restrooms again, throwing up and messing with my newly scrubbed floors.” Mark hands them their drinks.

“As if you ever clean them, Mark.” Zayn grabs the glass and downs the drink in two seconds. He places it on top of the table and gestures for a refill.

“Hey boy, don’t you dare talk shit about our lavatories,” inserts Barbara, having overheard their conversation. She walks languidly towards them and places a kiss on Mark’s cheek. “Hi Lou, you look cute tonight, hon. You pulling?” Instead of getting another drink for Zayn, she hands him a tall glass of water. “And no, honey. You won’t get another one without drinking this first. I see you waving your flask around a while ago.”

“Killjoys, all of you!” Zayn blurts out, but still drinks the water Barbara gives him. 

Louis has yet to drink anything in the bar, but what is coming with a stealth-like motion in front of them makes him raise the glass to his lips and swallow the burning liquid down his throat. With as much gracefulness as his small body can muster, he slowly inches his way out of this person’s line of sight. He is stopped short by another body, who is staggerly walking to the bar. Since the world is cruel to Louis, he is accidentally pushed closer to his frenemy.

“Hi Tony.” Louis gives him his fakest smile. “Been looking for you everywhere.” But Louis is looking everywhere but for Tony. He can probably dissipate at the moment and find himself in the confines of his bedroom, with Noah Khan blasting from his head phones as he reads his favorite book. 

“This is the one I’ve been telling you about. You’d probably have friends who’ll be into him.” The guy standing beside Tony gives him a once over, sheepishly smiling as his eyes makes a longer appreciative look at his face. 

“What?” Louis mutters. “I’m not a charity case.”

“Yeah, whatever. This is Luke. He’s in college. You’ll probably get some luck there, Louis. They don’t usually go for looks. They’re into that intellectual stuff and shit.”

Luke doesn’t seem affected by Tony’s inconsequential words. He looks out of place, to be honest. Standing beside Tony, Luke was not much taller. Everything from his hair down to his shoes are coordinated, casual yet stylish. This guy screams rich, white, college frat boy. Louis looks at the brown loafers Luke is wearing. _Prada? Or Ferragamo?_ His khaki pants and button down appears to be from the latest pages of GQ. Louis tries to remember where he last saw this shirt from someone? Oh right, his father in his last meeting with John Mayer. An $800 shirt on a date? Yikes, this guy is in for a treat tonight. With all the losers in the pub at this moment, this shirt will be ruined in an hour. He then notices Luke’s strawberry blonde hair, styled neatly and brushed off from his well-defined face. He’s got a really cute face, like Ryan Reynold’s in Van Wilder. Luke has muscles ripped across every part of his body, as if he’s been playing rugby for years. He’s got long, thick legs that would be good to look at during gym class, with their short school shorts hugging every curve of his thighs and buttocks. To say Tony did well tonight is an understatement. This person doesn’t belong here or with Tony. Not that he would say anything to Tony about it. He doesn’t want a gloating Tony in his midst anytime soon. 

“Hi. I’m Luke. You must be Louis.” Luke extends his well-manicured hands. Tony swats his hand away and purses his lips.

“No need for formality, babe. Luke, this is Louis. Louis, Luke.” Tony waves his hand back and forth like he’s flipping pages from a magazine. 

“Thanks, I think. But I don’t need college boys to be into me, Tony. I’ve got a boyfriend.” The lie slipped out from Louis’ lips. _Shit._

“For reals?” Tony was looking at him, like he’s lying. _.Shit._

“Yeah, for real, reals.” Another lie. He feels his heart hammering, there’s no way he can get out of this now.

“Guess I should be meeting him then, right?”

“Yeah.” _Shit._

“Guess you should be getting back to him, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” He manages to grab an arm of person on his back. The arm flinches from his hold, as if an invisible electrical current ran between them, sending jolts of energy back and forth. Louis looks at the person behind him and gasps. _Shit._

“Okay, just be cool. Just be cool,” Louis whispers. “Just, please. Go with it, okay?” Louis gives him a pleading look.

“Tony, this is my boyfriend, guitar boy...”

“It’s Harry.”

“Harry. Yeah, this is my boyfriend Harry.” Louis gives him a peck on the lips, then turns sideways, giving Tony a vindictive smile.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, Tony?”

“What?” Louis looks between them, their emotions obviously high. _What?_

“Hey, Tony. Did you get my mix CD?” Harry suddenly blurts out, making Louis slack-jawed.

“How do you know each other?” Tony nods at them, Luke trailing behind him.

Louis looks at Harry, his heart suddenly sinking. Harry looks like a lovesick puppy. The puppy that would keep wagging his tail to his cheating master after being replaced by a newly adopted, prettier and smarter puppy. Realization settles in his brain. This is Tony’s Harry. _Fuck._ His casual charm falters. _How in the world did he get to pick this guy, out of all the boys inside the bar?_ There’s no going back now. An idea pops in his head. He can still salvage this.

“We go to the same dentist. Doctor Man, Dr. Manny Mannowitz.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah.” Louis casually links their sweaty hands.

“Come on, Luke. We better go.” Tony hastily pulls Luke towards the doors.

“How do you know Tony?” Harry asks.

“Oh dear god,” Louis mutters. This is a nightmare. He wants to disappear, to pull out his invisibility cloak and never come back to this place. Maybe he could apparate to Alaska and wait for the northern lights to appear. That would be cool, actually. But Louis needs to think, he needs to ignore the noise in his head and start thinking of ways to get out of this. Without preamble, he hastily leaves Harry by the bar, his face showing confusion and concern. This is the last time he will see his face. His kind, lovely and hot face. He can pretend that tonight didn’t happen at all.

“Zaynie?” he shouts from the crowd. “We gotta go? Where are you?” Louis runs over to the most congested part of the pub. His head keeps on turning from one direction to the other, desperately trying to find his friend. As the crowd dwindles at the farthest corner of the bar where the dartboards are lined up on the wall, he finds his friend Zayn drunkenly trying to stay erect while he holds a dart on his right hand and a beer bottle in his left.

“Zayn, help, help. We gotta go now.” Louis stretches out his hand and hooks it at the cleft of his friend’s elbow. 

“Lllooouuueeeehhhhh,” Zayn slurs. “What’s going on, love?” He stumbles, trying to move towards Louis. 

“I made out with Tony’s sloppy seconds.” At this point, Zayn falls down and hugs his thighs. Louis, who barely has his footing, comes tumbling down with him. He tries to lift his friend up, but Zayn is literally dead weight at this point.

“I think I’m drunk.”

“You think?” Louis hooks his arms under Zayn’s armpits and pulls up. But then another hand holds his waist, and pulls him up together with Zayn. He’s seen these hands before. He had just been looking at them for two hours straight holding a guitar. 

 

\--------

 

“Wait!” Harry calls out. 

“Dude, go.” Niall who is sat beside him, pushes him to...wait, is it _Louis?_

“Louis, wait!” Harry shouts as he bounces off his seat.

It is like a blur. There is no explanation how this happened tonight. Harry tries to keep track of where Louis is going, but he just moves too fucking fast. He’s gone straight into the bustling people with no expectation if he could ever see him again. The lighting if this place is not helping him, subdued lights covers the expanse of the bar, with dancing bodies everywhere to the deafening noise of the band playing on the stage. But Harry has questions, and he needs them answered tonight. He runs, and keeps his pace until he sees the caramel colored hair at the end of the bar. He needs to know what the fuck is going on. _Why did this guy kiss him? Why did he pretend to be his boyfriend? How does he know Tony? And who is that guy with Tony?_

He moves fast as he sees two bodies colliding to the floor. There isn’t time to think. Instinctually, Harry rushes to their side and helps them get off the floor. 

“Here, let me give you a hand with that.”

“What are you doing?” The boy asks as he carefully hooks his arms to his friends armpits then winds them to his chest. It’s obvious to Harry that he can’t possibly lift him all by himself, so he reaches out, inserts his fingers to the boy’s belt loops, than yanks up. Louis seems to know his strength and lets him hold Zayn up as he tries to pull out his phone, desperately holding his body in place. His friend shifts his weight and faces Harry. He leans more into Harry, letting his body sag on him. With a sly smile, he pokes his chest and says, “You are one strong boy, aren’t you?”

“Z! Can you...hold him a bit while I try to get us an Uber?” Louis wasn’t looking at Harry, He holds his phone in his thin hands and swipes the screen.

“I have a car,” Harry volunteers. 

“I gotta take him home.” 

“Yeah, I have a car. I can take you wherever you want.”

“Okay.” 

Slowly, they all maneuver themselves towards the exit. Harry still has his hands to the friend’s waist, but his head had somehow found its nesting place in the crook of Louis’ neck. There is drool coming out from his open mouth, leaving a trail of spit from his lips down to his chin. He finds it honestly disgusting, but the sheer amount of self control and patience from Louis leaves him in awe of the boy. His eyes chanced on looking at Louis’ profile. He actually is pretty. _How did he miss that?_ As Harry sluggishly looks on, he could tell Louis has blue eyes with thick, curved lashes, high cheekbones, a slight upturned nose, thin pink lips and a delicate chin. His gaze drops to his body. Louis looks well proportioned, with strong and lean arms and legs. The swell of his hips and ass would bring women weeping out of frustration. No amount of exercise will rival the natural curves of this boy’s body. Louis actually dresses well, like he could tell how much each garment is priced. He seemed to try not to be boastful of his wealth, coming of as nonchalantly rich bordering to trendy yet relaxed. Harry, muses to himself, Louis could probably be safer in an Uber than his car. Without so much brain to mouth filter, he asks Louis, “Are you from Beverly Hills?”

“Do I look like I’m from Beverly Hills?”

“I don’t know if you’re saying you are from Beverly Hills or not.”

“I’m not from Beverly Hills.” 

Zayn suddenly perks up, glances at Harry with one eyebrow raised, the corners of his lips fighting a smile, “We’re from the colony, darling.”

Harry stared at Zayn with wide eyes, his jaw dropping a bit. The Colony. Malibu. _Who are these people?_ It’s not that he hasn’t seen rich people, it’s more like he hasn’t actually met rich people. His Yugo will definitely stick out like a sore thumb. That is, if security will allow his car in the colony.

“Ehrm, well. I could still take you guys there. My car is parked in the front.”

He looks at Louis, giving him a smile and a small nod. Louis has got his left arm wound around the bony shoulder of his friend, hoisting his body up with a bit of effort then says, “Okay.” 

“Wait. Are you mad at me, Lou?”

“I will never get mad at you, Z. Let’s just go home, okay?” Louis keeps dragging Zayn’s body forward, his arm showing strain. This scene in front of him looks like this had happened before. The way Zayn clutches the front of Louis’ shirt, his nose nuzzling at the crook of his neck. Louis showing no sign of irritability but more of showing complete accountability of the current situation. He is the responsible one, and undoubtedly always the sober one at the end of a night out. They quietly keep walking further until they reached the door, Barbara shouting from behind the counter, “Lou, do text me when you get home safely, okay?”

Louis gives her a thumbs up with his free hand then opens the door. The air hitting his skin is cool and crisp, sweet and steady like there will be a downpour at any moment. He lets his eyes rest for a moment at Louis’ face, the breeze tousling his hair, pinking the apples of his cheeks. There is something in the air tonight, like he feels light, calming somewhat peaceful. He feels the ambiance of street, hears the chattering sounds of people walking by them, likened to white noise, wanting to let his brain stay still. The wind dances around them, gently caressing every exposed part of their body. A soft snore comes from Zayn, who is still comfortably nestled in Louis’ neck. This makes Harry blink, losing focus for a second. He sees Louis shiver, his caramel brown hair flew in wild directions. Louis tugs his black leather jacket closer to his body, like it would eventually give him warmth in the chill of the night. But Harry might have lost control of his actions, for he keeps staring unabashedly at Louis. Every single movement of Louis, he follows closely, like a moth to a flame. He finds himself raising his hand wanting to touch Louis’ cheeks, to give him some sort of warmth. Just a few more inches…

“Is that your car?”

“Huh?” As he sees Louis’ eyes transfixed on something in the street, Harry follows where his cerulean eyes are gawking. 

“That easter egg on the sidewalk.” Harry points to his beat-up Yugo. “That’s my Becky.”

“You named your car Becky?” Louis regards him with the gaze of a stranger, that aloof judgement with no strings. 

Harry stops and draws a sharp breath, then breathe through his nostrils. He wants to say something to defend Becky’s honor, to tell him how Becky was the one who bore sole witness to his loneliness, his only friend who does not give judgments, who will listen to his ranting about how life is cruel to him. Harry opens his mouth, closes it quickly, looking at his toes before glancing back to catch Louis’ eye. “Becky may be small and rusty, but she is in mint condition. A result of a lot of time and care.”

“Hey, Harry, give us a ride?” Tony shouts from the other side of the road. He sprints towards them, clutching the hands of the mystery guy.

“Who..? Us? Is that…? Are you? You and this fellow here? Is that the Us?” Harry stutters.

“Well..” Tony licks his lips.

“Sorry, Tony. The car’s full,” Louis says impassively.

“I was talking to Harry, by the way.” Tony cocks his head to the side, looking at Louis like he smells something putrid.

“We’re already going somewhere, actually.” Louis arches one eyebrow, eyes sharp as daggers.

“Are you?”

At this moment, Zayn wakes up, breaking the tension brewing between Louis and Tony. “You didn’t say hi to me earlier. Are you mad at me?” Zayn’s face is still smooshed into Louis’ neck.

Tony stifles a laugh, relaxing his face. He turns to Louis and says, “I think you should probably take Drunkzilla here back to daddy's house, don’t you?” He moves closer to Harry. “And besides, Harry here will give us a ride. Won’t you, H?”

Louis hastily pulls Zayn’s body off from his chest to Harry’s unsuspecting body. “You know what...”

“Oof.”

Harry misjudges the boy’s weight. He has to take a small step sideways, angling his hips to the center, making his core stronger from the sudden impact. He grabs Zayn by the waist and lifts his limp body, which is right now literally making his left leg support almost half of the boy’s body weight. In what seems like forever adjusting his footing to lift Zayn’s useless limbs off his thighs, he dares to take a look at Louis and Tony. Louis has a scowl in his face, making him look like an enraged panther. No actually, he looks like a disgruntled kitten who can’t find her mother’s tit to feed. Tony, on the other hand has his arms crossed over his chest, livid with Louis’ brashness.

“You know what, Tony. There’s no room for you, okay? Not tonight.” Louis grabs Harry's’ arm, “Come on.” 

Harry sees Tony accept defeat for the first time in his life. He can’t believe it’s happening. “Yeah, yeah. That’s cool. We’ll catch up later with you guys. It’s a small car anyway.” Tony waves his hand at them, turning to walk to the other side of the road.

“Sorry.” he hears Louis murmur.

“Yeah, just give me a minute.”

Harry carefully opens the car door, pulling a lever at the underside of the front car seat. The back flips forward automatically, making a space for the backseat. He puts the sleeping Zayn at the back of his car, folding his legs in fetal position, then making sure he doesn’t hit his knees. Harry adjusts his seat forward, bringing his chest mere inches away from the steering wheel. There is a soft knock on the other side of the car and he sees Louis waiting for him to open the door.

“So, a Yugo. You don’t see these bad boys much on the road.”

“It’s a girl, actually.”

“Oh yeah, Becky.”

“Once you buy ‘em, you see them everywhere.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

Three loud bangs abruptly turn both their heads to his side of the car door. Two drunk men wobbly standing beside his car, knocking on his window. Harry rolls his window open, just a couple of inches, until he can hear them talking over each other. The shorter man asks, “You off duty?

“This isn’t a cab.”

“Are you off duty, man?” The taller one asks next.

“This isn’t a cab, my friend. I promise you.” Harry swiftly rolls his window up.

He turns on the engine and then dead silence...again. Shit.

“Damn it, why won’t she turn. Okay give me a sec.” _C’mon, C’mon Becky._

“I think it’s gotta cool down.”

“Just give me a sec..”

 

\--------

 

_*Toot toot, toot, toot toot, toot, toot._

 

“I told you, they look cute together.”

They’ve been looking at Harry and this guy for a few minutes. The dude isn’t bad looking. In fact, he’s kind of pretty, in a masculine kind of way. Liam is not gay nor bisexual, but he knows an attractive person when he sees one. And this guy is attractive, in a subdued, sort of scrawny kind of way. This needs an intervention. He nudges Niall, who is sat beside him with a boy. Niall, having had pulled a boy in the bar, is busily kissing the lights off the guy. He nudges Niall again, with more force, rousing a growl from his friend and a whine from the other guy. 

“What?” Niall says as he wipes the spit off his face.

“Okay, here’s the plan. I’m gonna give Harry a pep talk.” He looks at the guy beside Niall, “You know something about cars, bro?”

“Yeah, I know a little something, something,” says the guy with a sparrow tattoo on his right hand.

“Okay, so Niall. Clean up the boy, will you, man? And me and your boy will do the rest.”

Liam jumps from his side of the van, going around the back to get cables to jumpstart Harry’s car. Sparrow Boy follows him and gets the gloves out of the trunk. They both tap on Harry’s car, gesturing for him to pop the hood. Harry opens his window, sticks his head out and shouts, “Hey Liam. Hi beefy guy,” with a puzzled look in his eyes.

“Harry, we had a feeling you two might get stuck.” Liam attaches the cable to the electrodes of the battery. “Stalled again?” Liam hands Sparrow Boy the cables as he walks toward the right side of the car. He raps his knuckles on the window and waits for the other boy to roll it down.

“Yes?”

“Hi, friend. I think Niall could need your assistance in the van.”

“In the van? What for?”

“Yes, in the van. The large vehicle in front of you. If you may?” He then opens the car door and waits for Louis to walk over to the van.

He sees him gulp then enter the open sliding door of the van.

Niall whips his head towards the door as soon as he senses somebody coming in. “Hi, gorgeous.”

“Hi?”

“Want to try this on?”

“What is this?” Louis accepts the sheer black tank top that Niall hands him.

“Let’s just say we’re not the biggest fans of Harry’s ex, yeah? And we’ve decided you’re to be his salvation.” Niall keeps rummaging through the pile and sees a red, wide-necked, knitted top. He throws it at Louis and says, “Besides, we saw you two making out, and we think you’re the one.” Niall spots a women’s black, skinny jeans, with holes in the knees. He’s sure this was Gemma’s jeans, at some point. Well, actually, he’s sure this was somebody’s jeans at some point, to be honest. “This one too.”

“I’ve got perfectly good clothes on me, dude.”

“I’m making you sizzle tonight, homie. Get out of those dad clothes and let’s make you have some nice, perfect dicking by the end of the night.” Niall gives him a wink and asks, “What’s your name, by the way?”

The engine roars then dies immediately as Liam loses his footing on the gas. “C’mon Harold. Are we seriously talking about Tony right now?” Liam frustratedly starts the ignition again, gently lifting his foot off the gas . “You can’t talk to him about Tony. Harry, I mean it.” The engine finally roars to life and he pumps the gas a bit more to warm it up.

“He was with someone, Liam. I didn’t think he would bring somebody at our gig tonight. How could he have moved on so fast?” Harry’s forehead rests on top of his dashboard, his arms folded on top of his head. 

“H, it’s been a month. And honestly, that asshole wasn’t even good to you, to begin with.”

A snore from the backseat makes Liam jump. He turns his head and sees that there is an actual person in the car with them, sprawled in a weird shape, mouth hanging open.

“Who’s that?”

“Louis’ friend. His name is Zayn, and he’s very, very drunk.” Liam watches Harry rearranging the guy’s limbs and moves his head to the side. “I’ve got to drive them to Malibu, Li.”

“We’ll take the drunk mess home.” Liam gets out of the car, talking at Sparrow Boy who’s busy doing push ups on the pavement.

“Aha, this is it. This is your look.” Niall gathers all the clothes and puts it back inside the box. “Now, you’re ready.” He pushes Louis out of the way as he opens the sliding door, fluffs himself then bows, extending his left hand towards Louis. “Let’s go, kind sir?” 

“Oh okay. Thanks, I guess.”

Louis steps out of the van like a princess getting out from her carriage. Harry locks eyes with Louis then inhales. Louis, smiling at him, flutters his eyes shut as he slightly bows his head. Okay.

“Oii, Liam. What have you go there?” 

Liam winds his arms around Zayn’s thighs and hoists him on his shoulder. “We got this, Harry. You kids go find Fluffy, text us when you do or whatever. We’ll meet you there.” He gives his friend a look then says, “C’mon, H. It’s gonna be a fun night, yeah?” 

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Liam sees his friend sneak a glance at the person coming towards the car. “It’s actually getting better by the minute.” 

“Where do you think you guys are going?” A confused Louis steps in front of Liam.

“We’re bringing your friend home, beautiful.”

Louis blushes. He looks away for a second and finds a distraction by pulling at the hems of his red, oversized, knitted top, showing off his prominent clavicles. Harry hangs back, allowing him time to compose himself, fighting back a smile. What happens next he's going to want to remember for a long time, so while he looked on, he sees Louis give him the softest gaze, and Harry, for the life of him, does not dare drop his eyes for even a moment.

“So, ehrm..guys?”

Harry bites his lip, then turns to his friend, “Yes, Li?”

“We have to go.” 

Louis blushes even harder. He attempts to pat his cheeks to hide his embarrassment, but it makes Harry more endeared at the sight of him. Clearing his throat, Louis says to Liam, “Yeah, okay. So this is where you have to go.” Louis points at his phone, giving them directions as to which roads will have less traffic. “Okay, please, please, please, be careful. And text Harry as soon as you get there.”

Niall leans closer to Louis, “Yeah, Louis. We will.” Liam puts Zayn in the back of the van. Louis sees some throw pillows and blanket laid on the floor. Niall leans even closer Louis. “And for the record, you are far, far hotter than Tony.” Niall gives him a fast wink.

Sparrow Guy unclips the cables, then stows it inside the van. Liam opens the door and sits at the driver’s side and revs up the engine. Niall moves to the front seat of the van, opening the door for his boy. He gives him a peck on the cheek. “Good job, babe.”

Liam rolls down the window and puts his arms out and waves at Harry and Louis.

“I told you, they definitely look cute together.”

 

_*Toot toot, toot, toot toot, toot, toot._

 

\--------

 

10:35 PM  
Hollywood Boulevard, LA

 

“Should we try Whiskey a Go Go?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“But you know Fluffy’s not going to be on until super late though, right?”

“So we have some time to kill then. So...”

“So…”

Louis finds himself fidgetting. He keeps on pulling his shirt from one side to the other, as if he wants to expose his neck or shoulders more to Harry. Nope. Not that desperate. Yet. He pulls the seatbelt off him then releases it, making a loud snapping sound on his skin. Ouch. 

“Hey, you want music?” Harry turns his head to take a look at him. “I got some CDs in the glove compartment.”

“Okay.”

The first CD he pulls out is by _Alabama Shakes._

“Oh, I like this.” Louis turns it over in his hand.

“Yeah?”

“There’s this song _Hold On,_ I’ve got that on repeat studying for my finals.”

“You still in high school?” Harry asks.

“ Weren’t you going out with Tony? Of course I’m still in high school. But not for a couple more weeks though.”

“Yeah? So, did you apply somewhere?”

“Yeah, I did. Got my acceptance letters from the mail a few weeks ago.”

“Anywhere here? Like in California?”

“Yeah, in UCLA, Stanford.”

“So you’re staying in California?”

“Well, sort of. I got in at Columbia and NYU, too.”

“I got in at NYU!”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah.”

“If I went to Columbia, and you went to NYU, we’d be…” Louis starts counting with his fingers and gasps, “Holy shit, like thirty minutes away.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

“It would be nice to have somebody familiar close to you when you’re somewhere unfamiliar.” A smile flashes across Louis’ face, the creases by his eyes deepening, “Yeah, that would be so cool.”

Harry smiles back at him, his fingers thumping against the steering wheel. “Yeah, that would be awesome. Only…” Looking back on the road, he slows down as they approach an intersection. 

“What?”

“You see, I took a year off.”

“Yeah. Why so?”

“I was waiting on Tony to graduate and decide where he wants to go.”

“Oh.” Louis shakes his leg, then looks out the window. He knows this is going nowhere. He won’t be be a second choice. Not tonight, not ever.

“I’ve got more CDs in there.” Harry reaches to open the glove compartment. He grabs a CD and replaces the previous one. It takes about three seconds to play the music, but instead of a melody, a voice interrupts the silence. 

_“So, this is going to be my last mix CD. I won’t be making another one for you. I mean, if you want me to make you one, Tony, of course I will … just tell me what songs you want me to put in.”_

“Shit! Uhm..”

“So, you can just drop me anywhere, Harry. I’ll be fine.” Louis grits his teeth. _Not tonight, not ever._

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just make a U-turn and get me back to Hollywood Boulevard.”

“Wait, what happened?”

“Just forget it. I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Just drop me in that corner and I’ll get an Uber.”

“I told you we’ll find Fluffy.”

“Can you like… just stop the car so I can get off!” he practically shouts at Harry.

“I don’t know what I did to make you so angry.” Harry slowly turns to the side of the road, stopping the car. He drops his head on the steering wheel as Louis opens the door and slams it close. Harry looks on his rearview mirror and sees Louis walk a few yards away from the car, then slumps on the sidewalk, his brows creasing, his face tense. Louis gets his phone out, puts it near his ear, briefly speaking with someone. Harry tries to drown the busy traffic, using it as a backdrop noise in his confused brain. 

“What the fuck did I do?” he speaks out loud. There is no explanation why Louis is acting this way. No explanation at all. Harry’s positive he didn’t say anything wrong. They were casually talking about college and listened to his mixed CD. He glances back at Louis who is now standing up, still holding his phone near his face. Harry turns off the ignition and gets out from the car. 

Harry walks towards Louis. “You know what?”

“I don’t have to say anything to you. Just let me be. Go back to your car and find your Tony.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I refuse to be a goodie bag in your party.”

“What party? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I know you, I know your make.”

“My make?”

“You’re an EMO band boy obsessed with Tony.”

“Obsessed?” He feels his chest tighten, a quiet rage building inside of him. “It’s funny how Tony never mentioned you. But he did mention an angry twink in school who he said is jealous of him.”

Louis’ eyes narrow as he puts his phone back in his pocket, a cruel sneer forming on his usually smooth face. He leans forward, closing the distance between them. His eyes bear straight into Harry’s, his voice lowering, almost to a whisper. “What did you just call me?”

“An angry, jealous twink.”

Louis draws a deep breath. “I am not jealous and I am not a twink!” he shouts as he swings his right foot to Harry’s leg. In a split second, he dodges the kick, getting hit just a few inches above his left thigh, where the meatiest part of his ass is connected to his leg. Louis must have thrown his body weight behind his kick, since the pain Harry feels erupts instantly from the point of impact. He falls sideway to the ground, his hand immediately reaching his backside. 

“Wha… What did you do that for?” Harry furiously rubs his ass, looking back at Louis with wide eyes. 

“Oh my god,” Louis audibly gasps, his left hand covering his mouth. His face white as chalk, eyes and mouth wide open in stunned surprise. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he nervously approaches Harry, his hands quickly touching his thigh and ass. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I’ll call 911.”

“No, no. There’s no need for that, it’s not that bad. It just hurts like hell.” Harry continuously rubs his ass, his face wincing as he touches the area where Louis has just kicked him. He can feel Louis’ trembling hands as he keeps touching Harry’s thigh and back. He sputters for a moment before saying, “it’s not that bad, Louis. You were just… “ Harry stares into his bright blue eyes, sees a genuine concern etched in his face. “I’m fine. Might need to ice it later.”

“I’m really sorry, Harry. Don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s fine.” Harry reaches to hold Louis’ hand, his thumb gently doing circular motions against Louis’ palm. His fingers curl around his wrist, not clasping it too tightly, just enough to reassure him. “I’m okay, Lou.” He pokes Louis’ nose, brushing a strand of caramel brown hair away from his face. He sniffs dejectedly and bit his lower lip. His breathing becomes softer, the pensive look melting into a soft smile. Louis squirms a little, before his body relaxes. They exchange looks, Harry’s eyes go to the slight curve at the corners of Louis’ mouth. He returns the genuine smile, his dimples deepening. For a few seconds, they only stare at each other. Their pristine silence interrupted by the ringing of his phone. 

 

 _Hoo hoo. You can dance,_  
_you can jive,_  
_Having the time of your life._  
_Oohhhh, see that girl._  
_Watch that scene,_  
_dig in the dancing queen._

 

Louis sees the screen of Harry’s phone flickering while the sound of ABBA singing emanates to the small, constricting confines of Harry’s Becky. 

 

“Hello?”

“Harry, we’ve got a problem.”

“What problem?”

“We lost Zayn.”

“You what?”

 

\--------


End file.
